


My Kind of Trouble

by StealthEMOreo



Category: Orange is the New Black
Genre: F/F, Non-Canon Relationship, Poussex, Racism, mentions of Alex/Piper, mentions of Poussey/Soso, secret friends, seriously, unlikely romance, why isn't this a thing?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 05:42:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7562563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StealthEMOreo/pseuds/StealthEMOreo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prison is a strange matchmaker.  </p><p>(So, even though this can never be canon because of certain bullsh*t events in the latest season, I wanted to bring my two favorite characters together. I randomly thought of this while at work. Moral of the story - stay away from retail, kids; it'll rot your brain.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Kind of Trouble

**Author's Note:**

> The story doesn't have an exact time setting; i figure, why bother if it's not canon anyway? It does include plot points from various seasons though.
> 
>  
> 
> I'm sorry, do we have to make a disclaimer if we've already tagged the show? We all know I didn't create these characters..yada, yada, yada ;P
> 
>  
> 
> In all honesty, I do secretly hope this ship gets some wind in its sails.

P was re-stacking the last of the day's forgotten and neglected books onto her cart when she became faintly aware of movement behind her.

Gracefully, and without a word, a long, pale arm was wrapped around her petite frame; its hand resting just at her left hip. She needn't even look up or acknowledge the owner; she knew to whom the arm belonged.

"So...what kind of name is _Poussey...?_ " The question was whispered into her ear as the speaker rested her chin on P's shoulder. With a snicker, the bespectacled woman added, "that's like me earnestly addressing you as Vagina, while trying to be classy about it."

"It's **French**... _Putain_ ," the smaller woman obliged, fighting the slightest hint of a grin. This response was usually met with a chuckle from the taller woman and a nuzzling to the neck of the shorter woman.

Clearly, this isn't the first time they've had an exchange of this nature; in fact, it's one of the go-to greetings Alex preferred to use (she was not deterred in the slightest when its original usage almost earned her a punch to the face).

Of course, Alex's biting wit was never in short supply; this was a character trait P noticed almost immediately after they began conversing on a regular basis.

Now, this childish back and forth was the foundation of their relationship. Both were well-aware of how incorrigible the other was, and could become, with the right.. _encouragement_. Their banter was consistently peppered with subtle insults, one-upping with obscene remarks, snippets of French and German, and the occasional insightful observation. It's almost a mystery to the two of them as to why they had never really spoken in all the time they had been around each other. Once the initial awkwardness (mostly on Poussey's end) subsided, their conversations were effortless.

Six months ago, neither Alex nor Poussey would have noticed the other's presence in a room; regardless of whether they occupied the same space weekly, daily, or hourly.  Strange really, since it is **truly** a small world after all - especially in prison.

And to think, it only took a few _winning_ words to a reluctant library worker for this to become apparent to the duo.

* * *

 

"Hey! Is this all this piece of shit _library_ has for 19th-century women authors??" It was asked - more accurately, _shouted_ \- with feigned outrage and a smirk. Clearly, this was more to get the worker's attention than to voice a complaint.

Poussey slowly, yet dutifully, turns her attention away from her current novel (Jeffrey Eugenides' Middlesex) to see who is causing the ruckus. She could only roll her eyes upon discovering the culprit.

Getting up from her spot on the floor, P walks over to where the obviously-bored (why the hell else would she be pestering her?) Alex Vause is standing, with a mock-incredulous look plastered on her face.

"Umm, nope. Pretty sure we've got those in abundance. Here's one that's probably perfect for you,"  P says in a sickeningly-sweet voice.

She reaches around Alex, who's leaning up against the shelf with her arms crossed and smirking like a degenerate teenager, and pulls a book from one of the shelves.

"Perhaps, you'd be interested in The Awakening by Kate Chopin...? Though, honestly, I had you pegged for a Plath enthusiast; you know, with the goth look and the unfaltering cynicism you seem to be owning."

"Oooooo! No!" chuckles Taystee from the other side of the stacks.

Alex's smirk only slightly fades but she stands up straight.

"Damn, OK. I come in peace," Alex offers in surrender, hands raised in front of her. In a hushed voice she continues, "I was just wondering what it would cost me to get some hooch; I hear you might know where a thirsty person could get a good drink..."

P is momentarily caught off-guard by the inquiry but swiftly rallies, "Yeah, no, sorry. Not sure where you heard that but, not my racket. I'm strictly books before booze." In fluid succession, her expression goes from a brief, nervous glance to a quick, apologetic smile. She, then, returns to her spot on the floor.

"...really?" Alex poses, her incredulity is genuine this time.

"Ugh, you heard her! Go away, Daria!" Taystee says, coming around the stacks to join her friend.

"Whoa, OK! Jeez. Don't need to get the coalition on my ass. My sources are never 100% these days. I'm going," Alex huffs and storms off.

 ~

It rains the next day, but Poussey is still _almost_ surprised to find Alex back in the library; mostly because she's actually _reading_.

Alex looks over upon hearing the shuffling of books from across the room. She feels compelled to apologize to the other woman, though she hasn't the slightest clue why that is.

"Hey, listen, I'm sorry I was super forward yesterday. I've been more of an asshole than usual, don't take it personally. It just hasn't been easy trying to kick certain... _habits._ "

P merely snorts, "Oh, so you're trading one addiction for another? You know, I'm pretty sure we've got some self-help books for that kind of issue."

Alex can't help but realize she's rather enjoying the sarcasm from this chick. She looks up from her copy of Malcolm X with a playful scowl. P doesn't seem to take notice of the look.

Alex folds the corner of her page and closes her book. She half-heartedly looks around. "So, where's your sidekick today?"

An adorably raised eyebrow from Poussey lets her know she's gotten her attention.

"Uhh..I don't know. Somewhere else...? Besides, she's my co-kick; we're both too cool to be someone's sidekick." After a beat she follows that up with, "Where's your _girlfriend_ , four-eyes?"

Poussey's half-smile and taunting tone almost make her seem even younger than she already looks. Vause almost laughs out loud at this.

"Yeah, I don't know. We aren't an "item" anymore. Anyway, Piper and I are on two very different wavelengths these days. I can't even talk to her, really. She's too consumed with trying to be boss-bitch or some bullshit. I feel like she'd have no problem selling her soul and **mine** just to have some pull around here."

P's smile is immediately replaced by an expression Alex can't quite discern. She sits down across the table from Alex and regards her for a second.

"Hm. I did hear some stuff about Chapman and what she's been getting up to but, it's not my business. I try to stay on the outskirts of that kinda shit."

"Yeah, me too; operative word here is **try** ," Alex sighs, "it's always some crazy nonsense with her too; I'm here to do my time, not get dragged into some Little Rascals-type schemes. She doesn't seem to think she has a problem and, apparently, I'm not 'adventurous' enough or something," her air quotes are dripping with sarcasm, "I don't fucking know." She could probably beat a horse to death with this level of exasperation.

"Bitches be crazy, man," P simply states, almost under her breath.

"I know, right?!" Alex retorts with a grin and a shake of her head. P's nervous look of surprise (having not expected Alex to actually hear that last comment) is chased by a chuckle and a wide smile.

After another beat of silence, Alex raises her glasses off her face.

"What is someone like you doing here anyway?" Despite its vagueness, they both know what she means by this question.

Poussey nonchalantly responds with, "Well, I don't know about you but, I like to come to the library to read."

 

And with that, many conversations followed.

~

Even when P wasn't working, they usually hung out in the library. Although it wasn't always apparent, P would never sit at the same table as Alex for very long, and inconspicuously seemed to be watching the door. (It's not that she cared what her friends thought but she just didn't want to hear some stupid shit about who she chilled with instead of them).

Of course, Alex noticed her watching the door and frequently getting up, but chose not to say anything about it.

Alex wasn't entirely sure why she felt like she could just say whatever the fuck came to mind but Poussey never judged, or at least wasn't obvious if she had. In the same respect, P felt like Alex was a solid soundboard that she'd been lacking; her friends either had no interest in things she said or, inadvertently, managed to make her feel bad for saying them. Tay was her girl, but some things she just couldn't talk about with her either.

~

"So, what's up with you and that little geisha girl?" Alex, wearing her trademark smirk, not-so-coyly asked one uneventful day.

The resulting nervous tension was palpable. P cleared her throat a few times before she finally spoke.

"Oh, Brook? Well..we were, um, hanging out and stuff..but then she said some stuff to Judy King, of all fucking people, that I just couldn't get passed."

Alex cocked an eyebrow at this revelation. "Oh, shit. Really? Weren't you like fangirl-ing hard over her for a while? What did she say to her?"

Poussey snorted at Alex's use of "fangirl" and her mix of sarcasm with traces of genuine interest, but couldn't completely mask the discomfort her general disposition currently held.

"Basically, she hadn't been listening to anything I had shared with her about myself; she was more of talker than a listener, really. She just never really _got_ me, ya know?" P tsk'd to herself, "For a time, I thought we were alright together. I guess I just missed the early signs or whatever."

After a moment, Alex just makes an affirmative hum.

"Hm, well, no big loss there. It's not like your friends were all that into her either - she wasn't really Black Panther material," Alex muttered.

A look flashed across P's face, still not quite discernible to the other woman.

"Don't look so hurt; I'm right, aren't I?"

Poussey gave half a nod, refusing to entirely commit to the gesture, with her usually-docile features fixed into a hard scowl.

"They're not all racist," she began in almost a whisper, "You see what's happening in here - there are all these unnecessary dividing lines and shit. I never had to worry about race and dumb stuff like that when I was growing up. I get that this is prison and not a playground but, it's bullshit that we can't just socialize with whomever we want without some ignorant bitches trying to make sects."

P looked tired, utterly defeated, after these words left her lips. She looked like she wanted to either fight someone or just cry to herself. She put her head down on the table at which they were sitting.

Alex simply nodded and pushed her glasses to the top of her head.

It was starting to become harder to ignore that something about her newest friend, not just her compact size and baby animal-adorable face, made Alex want to scoop her up and offer her any bit of comfort she could muster. Their connection, although still in its infancy, was undoubtedly profound and symbiotic.

Of course, just because she might be starting to catch feelings didn't guarantee that the interest in this potential swirl would be mutual. So, being ever the martyr, she chose to "comfort" in a fashion that wouldn't blur the lines of their companionship.

"Look, I hear you. I'm not trying to run off with the Aryan nation, like my accidental baby-Hitler ex, but I'll admit that segregation does seem to be coming back in full force these days," with a non-committing shrug, she laid a gentle hand on the smaller woman's back and said, "It's lucky for you that I was never one for cliques."

"Dummkopf," P chuckled into her folded arms.

~

A few days later, at their usual meetup, P was pulled from the butt-end of one of Alex's famously irreverent jokes by the sound of Taystee calling her. Before she could think to react, Tay had entered the library but was stopped dead in her tracks.

"...heyyyy, y'all..." she didn't bother to hide her confusion at the scene (understandably so, as Alex had been pinching one of P's cheeks in a mock-Grandma fashion while P's efforts to swat her off were proving futile).

"Um," T cleared her throat, "we been looking for you, but now I see where you've been these past few weeks..."

Poussey's guilty expression, and the rigid way she stood up upon noticing her best friend enter the room, did nothing to alleviate Tay's bewilderment.

Seeming to choose her words carefully, she slowly questioned, "Uhh, P, can I talk to you for a second?"

Alex simply cocked an eyebrow at Taystee and tried to fight a smirk regarding how the color seemed to drain from P's face.

P walked around the table, threw a brief glance back at Alex (who merely raised her eyebrows and shrugged), and briskly followed her best friend out of the library.

 

"Umm...so it's not my place to tell you who should and shouldn't hang out with but that girl is trouble. Man, her girl is a Nazi!" Tay heatedly whispered, and for good measure added, "And you guys were looking aw-ful-ly cozy when I walked in."

"Man, don't be ridiculous. We're friends," Poussey nervously chuckled.

T skeptically eyed her friend, "Riiiight. Well...I'm just warning you that you might be running the risk of getting shanked by some swatiska-wearing motherfucker.  Just seems like a bad idea."

"That's bullshit. Is that how YOU feel or is that how you think you're _supposed_ to feel? What the others will think...?" P's visage remained composed though she was clearly agitated.

"Whoa, girl, relax!" Taystee interjected, "You do you, but I'm just looking out. Trying to have your back and all." She was clearly taken aback by her friend's reaction.  
"You know me, I don't have a problem with anyone over petty shit that they can't help anyway; didn't have a problem with Brook, except that she was kind of annoying as fuck sometimes but..."

"Sorry, T. I didn't mean to snap. I like Alex; you'd be surprised how much we've got in common, really. And she actually  _listens_ when I talk. I mean, I know she's got a history with certain other crazy white bitches but, all that bullshit wasn't necessarily by choice. I just don't think we should lump everybody together like that, ya know?"

Taystee saw that look P gets in her eye whenever she is truly passionate about what she's saying. In that moment, it made her nervous for her friend.

"Well, like I said, just be careful. Ok?" T didn't **know** Alex, but knew she didn't want anyone hurting her friend.

"C'est bon. We're kindred spirits; we're practically in here for the same thing." At that, they both laughed off the serious tone of Taystee's last statement.

"Shit, you probably would've been each other's dealer in college," Taystee simply shook her head.

 

That last statement had Alex practically crying with laughter when Poussey repeated it for her later that day.

 

At this point in time, neither of them knew just how strongly the other felt about their developing "relationship", but both knew that it wasn't something they would be willing to give up anytime soon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> It has the potential to be built upon but, I'm not sure if I will. 
> 
> It's probably crap but, haphazardly is how I do most things.


End file.
